It's hard to be a good person

Anguish. There's no other way to speak of it but thus. Anguish is what I feel now... It's the kind of inexplicable sadness that one sometimes feels especially when the events seem to suggest that nothing done will ever be right.

I try to be a good person. I'm not rich, nor famous, nor handsome, nor smart. But I try my best to be a good person, to help those who need help, to support people who need support, to care for those whom I want to care. But... as always, Fate plays cruel tricks on me. My silent help is often unappreciated, and I'm often ostracised, no matter where I am.

*sigh*

Here, in America, with no one to call kith or kin, I entrust my sense of belonging to the small community of my fellow countrymen. Yet... at times I feel as though they are no different from the Americans; strangers all of them seem to be, aloof and even at times, biting cold. I cannot comprehend this feeling that I have. Sometimes when they speak, it seems that they have some other form of communication of which I'm not privileged enough to be part of. Again this is happening. Again I'm getting cut out of the group.

Perhaps it's time to revert to the old ways, as detestful as it may be.

I thought I'd changed much as a person, but the reality check proved otherwise. I'm still the same old loner I was, just that this time, my loner attribute is more camouflaged than before, under the many layers of personas that I've carefully crafted over the years. But scratch deep enough through my personas, it's still the same old me that I was for so long.

*sigh*

Why? Why must it be the case that I need to end up in such a situation?

With sadness, I turn and walk away, a stray tear escaping from my eye.